American Adventure: My Uncle is Don Quixote

She let out a sudden laugh. "But what I miss most are the days we used to sneak macarons from the break room. They cost over 10 USD each, but hey, we were work buddies (Chapter 39)."

The corners of Jin Heon’s mouth turned up slightly.

She tried to imagine Li Wei wearing a sales associate’s uniform, standing in this store recommending bracelets to wealthy ladies, but no matter how she pictured it, the image clashed with the wise, powerful, and impossibly handsome boss he was now.

"He was dirt-poor back then," Emma said casually, walking over to the bar in the back of the VIP room to pour herself a drink. "He took the subway to work, and sometimes walked all the way from Brooklyn just to save on the fare. Here, have some water."

"Thanks," Jin Heon said, taking the glass of water. "He walked? All the way from Brooklyn?"

"That’s right." Emma’s demeanor wasn’t that of a sales associate at all; she acted more like the owner. She threw herself onto the sofa. "He and his uncle used to live in a moldy basement. Can you believe it? He’s a huge star living in a luxury apartment now, but back in high school, the place he lived in didn’t even have proper windows."

Holding her glass of water, Jin Heon was momentarily at a loss for words.

The image of Li Wei she held in her mind—the composed, perfect Li Wei who belonged in any setting, the admirable Li Wei everyone looked up to—suddenly developed a tiny crack.

And out of that crack stepped a different person: a high school kid who sneaked macarons from the shop, a poor boy living in a windowless basement, a part-time sales associate who would walk for two hours just to save a few dollars on fare.

"The clothes he wore to his interview on the first day were a wrinkled mess," Emma said, her tone reminiscent of someone telling a funny, old story. "Lady Delores told him to change into our uniform—oh, Lady Delores is our boss—and he just started stripping right there in the stockroom, in front of her—"

"Wait!" Jin Heon nearly choked on her water. "Right in front of her?"

"He probably figured it didn’t matter since Lady Delores was older," Emma said with a look of fond reminiscence. "Anyway, I heard from Lady Delores that Li Wei was in pretty good shape. She took one look and said, very calmly, ’No tattoos. Very good.’ (Chapter 8)."

"Later, he got better and better at the job, and the amount of food he sneaked grew and grew. I even suspect that if Lady Delores had found out, the value of the macarons he filched would have been higher than his commission."

Jin Heon actually laughed out loud.

Emma’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"Miss Jin Heon," she said, suddenly changing the subject and pointing at Jin Heon’s face, "did you go out last night?"

"No," Jin Heon said, touching her own face. "I didn’t go out."

"Your makeup is a complete mess," Emma said pointedly. "Do you need to use our powder room?"

"No, no!" Jin Heon waved her hands dismissively. "It’s probably just... I’ve had a lot on my plate recently."

"Is it work-related?" Emma asked indignantly. "Has Li Wei gone full-on capitalist, working you to the bone? If he dares make you work on the weekend, I’ll call and give him an earful."

"No, no," Jin Heon hurriedly waved her hands. "My boss is very good to me. It’s not about work."

Emma watched her for a few seconds.

"Then it’s a family thing," she said, her voice making it a statement, not a question. "You’re fighting with your family."

Jin Heon opened her mouth, but ultimately just lowered her head and said nothing, staring at her own distorted reflection in the glass of water on the coffee table.

Emma also fell silent for a moment.

After a few seconds, Emma broke the silence.

"Family, huh? Every family’s got its issues," she said, her tone as light as if she were talking about the weather. "Don’t take it too hard. Just try to look on the bright side."

Jin Heon held her glass, her head still bowed.

’Look on the bright side.’

She’d been hearing those four words her whole life, from the school counselor’s office to inspirational articles online.

Everyone who said those four words seemed to do so with a patronizing tone, offering pity from on high. It was like "God bless you"—an empty platitude, because none of them could ever truly put themselves in her shoes and understand her pain.

"Thanks," Jin Heon said coolly.

Emma smiled. "You don’t think I can understand you, do you?" She tilted her head, a hint of curiosity in her voice.

Jin Heon’s eyebrow twitched, but she still didn’t look up.

"I didn’t mean that," she said. "I just think that not every family is happy and perfect."

"That’s exactly what you mean," Emma laughed heartily. "You’re thinking, ’What the hell does this woman know? She sells luxury goods on the Upper East Side. Her biggest problem is deciding which brand of lipstick to wear today,’ right?"

Jin Heon didn’t say anything, but her silence was an admission in itself.

"To be honest, though, I probably can’t relate to whatever family problem you’re stressed about," Emma shrugged. "I grew up in Brighton Beach. You know it?"

Jin Heon did.

Brighton Beach. The Russian enclave at the southernmost tip of Brooklyn, New York’s largest community of immigrants from the former Soviet Union.

In public safety reports, it was labeled a high-crime area. In the news, it occasionally made an appearance for gang wars or busted underground casinos. To New York locals, it was known as Little Odessa.

"I started running with Lady Delores when I was fourteen. If it weren’t for her, I probably would’ve ended up a child prostitute, working the streets." Emma said it so casually, her tone was as if she were saying, ’I started wearing makeup when I was fourteen.’